


Elaborate and with Multiple Steps

by writingonpostcards



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Nanny Stiles Stilinski, Swim Instructor Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/pseuds/writingonpostcards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“So, how long are you around for?” Lydia asks him.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“Just this week. I’m looking after a family friend’s son while she visits her aunt.”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“That’s nice of you. Only one week is a tight schedule, though.”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“For what.”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“To get you a date with Derek.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Written for week one of Sterek Shelter's <a href="http://sterekshelter.tumblr.com/summerspectacle/">Sterek Summer Spectacle 2016</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Elaborate and with Multiple Steps

**Author's Note:**

> Telluric Currents' submission for week one of Sterek Shelter's [Sterek Summer Spectacle 2016](http://sterekshelter.tumblr.com/summerspectacle/)

**Elaborate and with Multiple Steps, by Telluric Currents**  


**MONDAY**

“Holy hell.”

 

Stiles watches an instructor climb out of the pool at the deep end, using muscled arms to lift himself out of the water. It’s probably not happening in slow motion, but Stiles’ attention is so hyper-focussed on the guy that it feels like it is.

 

“First time here?”

 

The question interrupts his staring, and Stiles turns to see a stunning red-head quirking an eyebrow at him.

 

“Uh, yeah.” He clears his throat and tries not to look back over at the guy.

 

The woman laughs, then nods toward the swim instructor. Stiles follows her gaze straight away. So much for not looking.

 

“That’s Derek.”

 

“Derek,” Stiles repeats, still staring. Derek’s started talking to a group of kids now, demonstrating some kind of stroke technique while the kids copy him. Stiles spots Ben in the group and is immediately torn between joy at having some kind of an in with this Derek guy, and also pain.  Pain because Stiles knows if he ever does talk to Derek he’ll trip over his tongue, what with Derek being so much Stiles’ type.

 

“Uh-oh. I know that tone,” the woman says.

 

“What tone?” Stiles blinks, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I’m not— there’s, there’s no tone.”

 

The woman nods her head slowly and purses her lips. “So you haven’t already planned your first date together?”

 

“That’s… no. I have not.”

 

“Thinking of it now though?”

 

“Well that’s unfair. It’s like Inception and the pink elephants,” Stiles points out.

 

The woman laughs and then holds out her hand. Stiles shakes it.

 

“I’m Lydia.”

 

“Stiles. Nice to meet you. Well, I’m not sure that’s true yet. Interesting to meet you?” Stiles amends.

 

“Hope so. All the others around here are far too normal.”

 

Stiles looks around at the other adults mingling on the stepped benches edging the pool area. It’s mostly parents, judging from their age, and the fact that he can overhear conversations about the quality of school canteens.

 

“So, how long are you around for?” Lydia asks him.

 

“Just this week. I’m looking after a family friend’s son while she visits her aunt.”

 

“That’s nice of you. Only one week is a tight schedule, though.”

 

“For what.”

 

“To get you a date with Derek.”

 

Stiles turns to Lydia in confusion. “Why do you think I would want that?”

 

“Why wouldn’t you?”

 

Stiles doesn’t have an answer for that.

 

“Besides, it’s like I said, everyone here is uninteresting. My brain needs something to do.”

 

“Can’t you read a book instead of interfering in my love life?”

 

Lydia eyes Stiles derisively. It’s surprisingly effective coming from a near stranger.

 

“Tell me honestly, if I’m not encouraging you, would you approach Derek?”

 

“Yes,” Stiles says immediately.

 

Lydia stares him down.

 

“Okay, _no_. How on earth do you know that though. We literally met three minutes ago.”

 

“I’m good at people.”

 

Stiles sighs and looks back at Derek. He’s not going to say no to the possibility of getting closer to him. Physically would be a first step, so he can maybe say ‘hey’ and introduce himself.

 

Stiles’ plans normally run more on the five-year basis, not five days, so whatever Lydia is going to come up with is going to be very different from his usual MO.

 

But he’s got several hours to kill this week as Ben does his lessons, so why not?

 

 

**TUESDAY**

Stiles sees Ben off to his lesson, giving him an encouraging wave which Ben ignores. It’s only day two and even though they’ve met before, they haven’t quite got a bond yet. Stiles hopes that will change.

 

He finds Lydia in the stands and sits down next to her. She hands him a piece of paper.

 

“What is this?” Stiles asks.

 

“That’s the plan.”

 

Stiles scans the list. It’s long and wildly varied. If Stiles hadn’t found out yesterday what Lydia’s doing at college (political science), he’d be seriously concerned for her mental wellbeing. Points like _compliment his smile_ back up on ideas like, _start a debate; Shrek vs Cher_ (which firstly, in what context? Fight to the death? Singing? Being the least pretty?). The bottom of the list starts getting scarily sexually explicit and Stiles can’t help but shudder.

 

“What the hell, Lydia! Does this stuff work for you?”

 

Lydia starts laughing like she’s been holding it in a while.

 

“Not at all. I just pulled that off the internet.”

 

“Okay, I’m confused. Is there an actual plan?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Lydia reaches for the paper and scrunches it into a ball, tossing it into a trash can. She turns back to Stiles and takes a deep breath, expression turning serious again.

 

“Ready to hear it?”

 

Stiles gulps, then nods.

 

Lydia takes a deep breath and stares into Stiles’ eyes.

 

“Talk to him.”

 

Stiles blinks.

 

“Talk to him,” Lydia repeats, just as serious.

 

Stiles feels… a little let down actually. Talk? Just talk to him? Stiles can do talking.  Everyone he knows knows that. That’s his usual approach.

 

“Not to sound rude, but isn’t that a little, uh, not very proactive?”

 

“More proactive than sitting here and staring at his torso when he gets out of the pool.”

 

She has a point. Stiles did do that a lot yesterday.

 

“I guess I was expecting different advice. Like you say ‘plan’ I think ‘elaborate and with multiple steps’.”

 

“We can get to that later.”

 

“In four days?” Stiles scoffs, looking over to Derek for the first time since starting this conversation.

 

Derek’s in the same outfit as yesterday. Dark blue swimming trunks and black swim top. He hasn’t gotten into the water yet and his hair is ruffling in the slight breeze, making him look younger. Stiles wonders how old he is. He laughs at something a little girl says and looks so gorgeous doing it that Stiles’ stomach constricts.

 

Stiles watches Derek walk back and forth along the side of the pool, calling out encouragement to the kids and high-fiving them when they finish their laps. If he had a swim instructor like Derek when he was younger, he’d probably be a lot less flail-y in the pool. Or maybe that’s just his nature.

 

Stiles takes a moment to think about how absurd this whole situation is. Planning some kind of wooing scenario with a girl he just met yesterday, to get closer to a guy who he also just met yesterday. Though _met_ is probably too strong of a word for it. Admired from afar. Imagined talking to in his head. Dreamt about last night. Those are more accurate.

 

Actually, the longer he watches Derek —  now sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs dangling in the water, talking his kids through their next activity — the more he realises that maybe Lydia’s onto something.

 

Stiles sighs.

 

“Finished ogling?”

 

“I wasn’t,” he denies immediately, even though it’s a lie. Partial lie.

 

“Sure.”

 

Stiles shrugs.

 

“I’m going to talk to him after. You were right.”

 

“Of course I was. What’s the point of coming up with a game plan if you don’t even know whether you’re compatible yet?”

 

“Do you think we will be?” Stiles can’t help but ask.

  
Lydia cocks her head, taking a moment to think about it. “Yes,” she says eventually. “I don’t know Derek too well myself, or you, but I’m close with some of the other instructors and they like to tell stories. I think you two would work well — like a yin and yang thing.”

 

Stiles is appreciative of her opinion, as vague as it is, and it makes him feel like his chances with Derek are actually more realistic than he’s been imagining.

 

Lydia and Stiles spend the rest of the time talking about trivial things, though only after Stiles spends a good few minutes grilling Lydia on everything she knows about Derek, which is not a great amount.

 

After the lesson’s over, Ben races up to Stiles to grab his bag, massive smile on his face.

 

“How’d it go, buddy?”

 

“Good. Derek says I’m doing well at backstroke. He’s so cool.”

 

“Is he?” Stiles asks.

 

Ben nods frantically, then dashes off to the shower block.

 

“Ben, no running!” Stiles attempts some form of caregiving. Ben ignores him.

 

Stiles rolls his eyes then stands up to go and find Derek to implement this ‘plan’ of Lydia’s. One problem though — he can’t find him.

 

He walks around the circumference of the pool, probably looking like an idiot swinging his head from side to side, but he’s got to do this before he talks himself out of it.

 

Eventually Stiles makes his way back to where he started with no sign of Derek. He sits down dejectedly, and promises that he’ll try again tomorrow — try and get Ben here early so he has some time before lesson to introduce himself.

 

Stiles imagines the meeting, trying to get the perfect balance of friendly but interested. He’s still struggling with the wording when he happens to glance at his watch. He frowns, then looks around at the pool area. The final classes of the day have all started, and the rest of the kids Ben does his lesson with have left.

 

Ben hasn’t come out of the shower yet, and he never takes this long. Stiles tries to convince himself it’s probably nothing. Ben’s capable of handling himself, and he’s at that age where he wants to be doing things by himself. He’s probably just enjoying a long shower.

 

Stiles bounces his leg up and down, trying to talk himself out of a panic. It’s only the second day, so surely it’s way too soon for something to go wrong. _Deep breaths_ , he tells himself.

  
Four seconds later he’s on his feet and venturing into the communal shower stalls.

 

“Ben? Ben? You all good?”

 

“Around here,” a voice calls out that is definitely not Ben’s.

 

Stiles rounds the half wall separating the showers from the changing area and sees, crouching in front of Ben, who else but Derek.

 

His brain analyses the situation very quickly, which is why Stiles doesn’t feel so bad that the first thing he notices — even though he should probably be paying attention to other things above it — is that Derek’s only wearing black speedos. The second thing is that he’s holding a towel to Ben’s head.

 

“What happened?” Stiles scrambles over to them, crouching down in front of Ben. “You okay, Ben?”

 

Stiles can see tear tracks on his cheeks, but Ben nods, and Stiles lets out a sigh of relief.

 

“He just scraped his head on the edge of the bench over there,” Derek reassures Stiles.

 

Stiles takes in the white towel and the worrying amount of red on it, unconvinced.

 

“Head wounds bleed more,” Derek adds.

 

“You know that from experience?” Stiles’ voice is somewhat strained, feeling the pressure of looking after someone else’s child.

 

“Yes, actually.” Derek turns to Ben. “Do you want to take over holding this for me? There you go. Let’s get you over to the office and we can put a band-aid on it.”

 

“I’ve got one in my wallet, if you want.”

 

Stiles is halfway pulling out his wallet when Derek stops him by wrapping his fingers around his wrist. Stiles sucks in a breath.

 

“I want to put some antiseptic on it as well.”

 

Stiles nods.

 

“Would you mind taking Ben across and meeting me over there? I need to put some clothes on.”

 

Derek gestures to himself and Stiles can’t help but look.

 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He swallows to try and get some moisture back in his throat. “Meet you there. Come on, Ben. I’ll get your stuff.”

 

Stiles takes Ben, still holding the towel valiantly on his forehead, into the admin office and then sits next to him in a chair, trying desperately not to let his mind wander into non-PG rated territory. It’s hard, and the photos around the office featuring Derek in swimwear do not help at all.

 

When Derek joins them, Stiles’ nerves are on the frayed side. Derek may have put on sweatpants and a loose long-sleeved shirt, but now that Stiles knows what’s underneath them it doesn’t help his state at all. He tries not to stare at where Derek’s shirt is clinging to the still damp skin of his back as Derek heads to the cabinets behind the desk. He reaches up to pull out a red first-aid kit then joins Stiles and Ben at the chairs, getting onto his knees in front of Ben and placing the kit on the ground beside him.

 

“Good job holding that, Ben. I’m almost ready.”

 

“Thanks, Derek,” Ben says without a wobble in his voice.

 

As Derek pulls out a packet of band-aids and a tube of antiseptic cream, he turns to look at Stiles.

 

“I realised I didn’t introduce myself before. I’m Derek.”

 

“Stiles.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Derek says with a smile implying he actually means it. “Sorry for my poor first impression. I do normally try and be a bit more clothed.”

  
“I didn’t mind,” Stiles says before his filter switches on. He flushes immediately as Derek raises his eyebrows in surprise. Ben giggles next to him and Stiles wishes to be anywhere but in this situation.

 

“Oh god, no, no,” he rambles, using his hands to add emphasis. “I mean, you were helping Ben with the cut and so I didn’t mind that you weren’t clothed, because you were helping.”

 

Derek laughs, which starts Ben off again as well. Stiles slumps in his seat and presses his face into his hands.

 

“That didn’t make it better, did it.”

 

“Not really,” Derek says when he’s finished laughing.“But I get your point.”

 

“Thank god.”

  
Ben’s cut is very small, and Derek is efficient in cleaning it, wiping the drying blood away and dressing it with antiseptic and a band-aid.

 

“See, told you,” Derek says to Stiles when he’s done. Turning to Ben he adds in a much softer tone, “You’ll be fine for tomorrow’s lesson.”

 

Ben nods seriously, watching Derek put everything back into the first-aid kit.

 

Derek stands and puts his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles tries to pretend he didn’t jump at the sudden contact.

 

“If you feel like you’re getting a headache I’m sure Stiles can get you some aspirin,” Derek says smiling down at Stiles.

 

Stiles nods like a star-struck idiot and tries to return Derek’s smile.

 

When he gets home that afternoon, Stiles wrist still smells like chlorine, and his shoulder still feels tingly where Derek made contact with it. It’s all a bit pathetic how giddy those things make him feel.

 

But at least he probably made an impression with Derek.

 

 

 

**WEDNESDAY**

The next day, Stiles attempts to redeem himself from the unfortunate, accident-and-partial-nudity related introduction of yesterday. He has his own plan which will hopefully work as a second chance at a first impression. He doesn’t tell Lydia his idea because he’s… well he’s pretty sure she’d laugh at him.

 

“Hey, Derek! Hey!” Stiles calls to him after Ben’s lesson, before Derek has a chance to disappear.

 

“Hi, Stiles. How are you going?”

 

“Good, thanks. So, look,” he barrels on before he loses his nerve. “I just wanted to say thank you, again, for helping out with Ben yesterday. I really appreciated it. Even though, you know, I did have a band-aid with me.”

 

“It was no problem.” Derek smiles at him and Stiles’ heart pitter-patters.

 

“Well even so, I got you a gift. Kinda like a thank you thing.”

 

“You really didn’t need to do that, Stiles.” Derek looks away, and pushes his wet hair from his forehead.

 

“Here.”

 

Stiles thrusts his hand toward Derek, who blinks in shock.

  
“You got me a popsicle,” he says slowly.

 

“Yes. Fruit flavoured. Pineapple.”

 

Stiles waves it around, a little too much in his nervousness, and Derek leans away when it almost whacks him in the nose.

 

“That’s… nice. Thank you.” Derek reaches hesitantly for the popsicle.

 

Stiles watches it sitting sadly in Derek’s hand, not being eaten, and starts feeling like an absolute idiot. He should have stuck to Lydia’s plan. She explained her second phase to him this afternoon but Stiles was so wrapped up in his own plan that he remembers very little of it.

 

“I realise now that it is a tad ridiculous,” Stiles scratches at the back of his neck and then regrets that as he feels sticky residue from the popsicle clinging to his skin. He decides to fall back on his tried-and-true method of lying through his teeth to redeem himself. “This was kind of a spontaneous idea and I didn’t have a lot of cash on me—”

 

“No, no, Stiles,” Derek interrupts, “it’s good.”

  
To prove his point, Derek licks up the entire length of the popsicle with a smile on his face, maintaining eye contact with Stiles.

 

Stiles would like to go back in time and abort this mission, because he is suddenly _this close_ to saying or doing something inappropriate which would turn Derek away from him forever (and he’s already thinking several inappropriate thoughts, which seems to be unavoidable around Derek).

 

“It’s good,” Derek declares, licking it again. “Thanks.”

 

“I’m, uh, yeah, no problem,” Stiles rambles. “I’m just going to... go now. Ben’s probably almost done, so…”

 

Stiles backs away slowly as Derek nods at him and proceeds to nonchalantly shove the entire popsicle length into his goddamn mouth.

 

“Are you okay, Stiles?” Ben asks when they’re in the Jeep driving home.

  
His glum mood must be bad if Ben’s noticing, but he can’t help it. He’d meant to have a good, _normal_ conversation with Derek and look what happened. He’s also trying to hide how flustered he still is from Derek licking the popsicle. He’s noticed himself speeding a few times as his mind wanders.

 

“I’m fine, Ben, just thinking about someone— _thing_. Some _thing_.”

 

“Is it Derek?” Stiles switches his foot to the break after he speeds up again. “He was asking me about you today. Are you friends?”

 

“No.” Stiles tries to keep his voice level. “He seems nice though.”

 

“I can set you up!”

 

Stiles nearly runs a red light at that.

 

Ben leans forward in his booster from the back so he can yell in Stiles’ ear.

 

“You guys can be friends because you’re the same age,” he says with child logic.

 

“Alright, Ben. Sounds great. Go for it.”

 

Ben leans back in his seat and doesn’t talk for the rest of the ride. Stiles isn’t sure whether that means he’s moved on from the idea, or he’s actually planning something. He doesn’t know which he’d prefer.

 

 

 

**THURSDAY**

It turns out Ben _was_ constructing a plan and that plan is having Stiles join Derek’s swimming lesson.

 

Stiles tries his hardest to get out of it because a) he doesn’t think it can actually happen, b) he doesn’t much fancy wearing clingy swimwear in front of Derek, c) and the other seven and eight year olds because that’s creepy, d) he actually has a horrible technique and will get embarrassed, e) Lydia will see him and laugh at him, f) basically there are a lot of reasons.

 

When Ben describes it to Lydia with enthusiasm, she jumps on board and talks to the coaches she knows and they reassure Stiles that it’s absolutely fine, no matter how much he tries to plead with them (non-verbally) to please tell Ben it can’t happen.

 

So Stiles finds himself in a pair of swimming trunks Ben stole from his dad’s wardrobe, plus a swim top that’s much too big.

 

Stiles is tugged by Ben into the water, and immediately tries to hide himself, which is impossible seeing as he’s twice the size of everyone. While the kids sit on a bench along the side of the pool, Stiles can stand easily and the water doesn’t even reach his nipples.

 

Derek has obviously been told about his surprise student because he doesn’t double-take when he comes over to start the lesson, just smiles a bit too enthusiastically for Stiles’ liking as he takes in Stiles’ crossed arms and ill-fitting swimwear.

 

“Hey everyone,” Derek says cheerily.

 

“Hey, Derek!” the kids chorus.

 

“As you’ve probably noticed, we have a new student in class today. Everyone, say hi to Stiles.”

 

“Hi Stiles!” the kids all squeal, happy to be involved in Ben’s idea.

 

Stiles tries to look more enthusiastic than embarrassed but he’s not sure how well he succeeds.

 

The kids actually get used to him very quickly, and Derek doesn’t make too many special shout-outs to Stiles (which Stiles hopes isn’t an indication that Derek doesn’t care enough about him to do so). He takes a few feet to the face because his longer arms mean he keeps getting too close to the person in front of him. It gets laughs from the kids and Derek though, which makes Stiles feel warm. He makes sure it happens a few more times.

 

The hour lesson feels much shorter than Stiles would have expected. At the end of it, all the kids line up on the bench again, and purposely shove together to make a spot for Stiles. He feels like he’s found new friends. Derek’s been in the water for most of the lesson, and he stands in front of them to speak, hair somehow still dry.

 

“That’s it for today, guys. I’ll see you back here tomorrow for the final lesson.”

 

Half the kids cheer and half boo, but Derek just laughs and waves them out of the pool. Stiles hops off the bench and moves back, trying to avoid getting splashed in the face.

 

“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” Derek asks when it’s just the two of them left in the lane.

 

“It wasn’t so bad,” Stiles admits, though he’s not telling Derek the truest reasons behind that (points like ‘Derek’, and ‘wet-Derek’). “You’re a good teacher.”

 

“Thanks, Stiles. You know,” he continues after a beat, “I could give you lessons if you want.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Your freestyle is a little loose, that’s all. I could help you with it.”

 

Stiles feels equal parts offended and flattered. Not that he really cares about his swimming abilities too much, but unexpected critique is never pleasant. This could actually be the in he’s looking for with Derek though. Guaranteed, physically close, one-on-one time.

 

It’s the second last day and if Stiles wasn’t going to ask him out today it was going to be tomorrow and this unexpected turn of events takes the responsibility completely away from Stiles, which he’s both fine and happy with.

 

He shrugs at Derek. “Okay then, I’m game. Do I need to pay you?”

 

“No, that’s fine. It can be a favour between friends.”

 

“Friends?”

 

“Yeah, Ben said something about—”  

 

“Oh god,” Stiles groans.

 

“I’d be happy to though, really. You’re a lot easier to talk to than some of the other adults around here.”

 

Derek looks around, then takes a step closer to Stiles to whisper, “I once had a serious discussion about the supposed benefits of gendered colouring of water wings.”

 

Stiles cracks up at the hopeless look on Derek’s face, and the idea of Derek talking with some well-meaning mother or father about floatation devices.

 

Derek joins in with him and their laughter eventually gets them berated by the coach in the next lane over for distracting her kids. They apologise quickly and get out of the pool. Stiles forgets to keep some distance between them on the step ladder and accidentally bumps into Derek’s ass which makes Derek jerk forwards.

 

“Sorry, sorry.”

 

“All good,” Derek says. “I’m used to a bit of unwanted touching being a swim coach to kids.”

 

“Unwanted?” Stiles’ heart drops right down to his gut. _Unwanted_ isn’t exactly something you’d be saying to someone you want to get to know better and maybe go out with. _Unwanted_ is the feeling you have towards creeps at bars who come onto you when you’re not interested. Or creeps in swimming pools. Maybe this lesson is actually more about Stiles being a bad swimmer than Derek wanting to be Stiles friend (and maybe more).

 

Stiles doesn’t think he can look at Derek after that truth, so he turns away as soon as he’s out of the pool and starts heading toward the showers.

 

A hand on his arm stops him.

  
Stiles turns back around and Derek is staring earnestly at him, little lines creasing his forehead between his eyebrows.

 

“I shouldn’t have said unwanted.”

 

“Oh,” is all Stiles can think to say in his funk.

 

“Coming from you it’s not… unwanted. Just unexpected.”

 

Stiles nods because Derek’s staring at him like this is something Stiles needs to understand.

 

“Should I be reading into that? When you say it’s not unwanted?” he asks, testing the waters of their dynamic. He obviously had the wrong idea two seconds ago, and so now he’s going to make damn sure they’re on the same page.

 

Derek, his hand still on Stiles’ arm, shuffles on his feet. He breaks their eye-contact for a moment, but only to glance down at Stiles’ lips.

 

When he looks back up there’s a smile gracing his face.

 

“Please,” he says, then adds, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles.”

 

Derek walks away, leaving Stiles dripping by the side of the pool. His brain is processing and pretty quickly he comes to a conclusion: Derek likes him.

 

His heart jumps straight back up and lodges in his throat, and Stiles can’t stop smiling even though he probably looks incredibly idiotic smiling at nothing.

 

He showers and changes without paying attention, and Ben has to correct him when he starts walking in the opposite direction of the car.

 

“Are you and Derek friends now?” Ben asks Stiles three times on the trip home before Stiles can get a word in. He’s very excited when Stiles says they are.

 

 

 

**FRIDAY**

It’s the last day of Stiles’ nannying, and the last trip he and Ben will make to the pool together.

  
If on Monday Stiles had imagined what this Friday would be like, it would probably have featured him pre-emptively mourning the loss of Derek from his life, because as much as he talked himself up to Lydia, he knows he never would have actually approached Derek. Minimise risks and all that. Keep Derek as a memory.

 

But in actuality, he met Lydia, and they’ve decided to keep in contact after this week, and he actually has plans to see Derek after today as well. Without a kid chaperoning, which is even better.

 

So he’s pretty at ease when he gets in on Friday, giving Derek a big wave from across the pool when they make eye-contact, and greeting a few of the coaches by name.

 

Lydia throws an arm around his shoulders when he sits next to her and kisses him on the cheek.

 

“What was that for?” Stiles asks with a smile.

 

“You’ve just grown up so much,” she says sappily.

 

Stiles shakes his head and looks over to Ben’s class to check he’s settled in. When he spots Ben sitting on a fluoro pink noodle, bobbing happily next to a girl from his class, Stiles turns his attention back to Lydia.

 

“Plan worked then? Sally told me you and Derek are going out this weekend.”

 

Stiles shakes his head. “The coaches here are all such gossips.”

 

“Not really, just friends. Speaking of which,” Lydia puts her hand out, palm up. “Give me your phone please. I want to put my number in it.”

 

Stiles hands it over and Lydia programs it in with deft fingers, sending herself a text before handing it back.

 

“I notice Derek’s number isn’t in there yet. Wasn’t that part of the plan?”

 

“It is in there,” Stiles says, “just not under Derek because Ben keeps using my phone to amuse himself and I don’t want him saying anything to Derek on my behalf.”

 

“Pretty sure it’s too late for that,” Lydia summarises with accuracy.

 

After Ben’s lesson, Derek makes his way over to where Stiles and Lydia are sitting. Stiles only notices because Lydia nudges him mid conversation and points it out.

 

His stomach flips, and he bites his bottom lip to try and make his smile smaller.

 

“Hey, Stiles. Lydia,” Derek greets them.

 

“Hey Derek, what brings you over to our neck of the woods?” Lydia asks like she already knows the answer.

 

“I came over to ask Stiles a question, actually.”

 

“I’ll just excuse myself then,” she says.

 

Lydia picks up her handbag and walks down the stairs, looking over her shoulder as she reaches the bottom and gets past Derek to give Stiles an obvious wink and a thumbs up.

 

“So,” Stiles says, clapping his hands together and trying not to blush (more than he already is), “what did you want to ask me?”

 

Derek climbs up a few steps so he’s at eye-level with Stiles.

 

“Are you free tonight?”

 

“What for?”

 

“For our swimming lesson.”

 

“Uh…” Stiles blinks a few times.

 

“Meet me here at eight?”

 

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Stiles says with some measure of composure even though his insides are all slamming against each other and his palms are sweaty.

 

Derek gives him a big grin. “Great. I’ll see you later then, Stiles.”

 

As is customary, Stiles watches Derek’s figure retreat with intense concentration. The back muscles shifting visibly under Derek’s damp top send Stiles’ brain spinning, and he can’t help but laugh to himself. He’s freaking going out with Derek tonight. And they’re going to be swimming together, which is strangely intimate in Stiles’ opinion. All that water around bodies, and wet torsos.

 

He’s looking forward to it. To finally having a conversation with Derek that lasts longer than the few minutes they can grab before and after class, to finally not having to watch his mouth around Ben, to actively flirting, to spending an extended amount of time close to Derek, to just seeing how everything goes.

 

**THE DATE**

Stiles is early to the pool — his nerves combined with eagerness meant he was quick in preparing his stuff and driving over. When he gets there, the area is already unlocked. Only half the lights are on making the pool look eerie, slipping in and out of shadow in the setting sun.

 

Stiles heard water moving when he was walking over and it makes sense now. Derek is in the pool, doing slow laps of freestyle. Stiles can see that he’s just wearing speedos again and he gulps, hoping he can keep his composure.

 

He makes his way over to the pool and puts his stuff down on the steps next to Derek’s, slowly stripping off his top and taking his shoes and socks off.

 

Derek notices Stiles eventually and has the audacity to actually get out of the pool to come and greet him. Stiles tries to keep his eyes trained on Derek’s.

  
He glances down a few times.

 

“You made it,” Derek says with a smile, voice filled with an enthusiasm that Stiles responds to.

 

“Of course. What’s the plan?”

 

“I watch you do a few laps, give you some tips, see if you improve.”

 

“Sounds good. Let’s go.”

  
Stiles dive-bombs into the pool and when he surfaces, Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles before mimicking him. Stiles gets a wave of water in the face, but it’s not going to dampen his excitement for his night with Derek.

 

Derek emerges laughing, “You’re worse than the kids, you know.”

 

“You’re one to talk. I saw you blowing water out of a pool noodle at them the other day.”

 

Derek blushes, and looks away. He clears his throat and turns back to Stiles with his instructor face on.

 

Swimming under Derek’s watchful eye is actually quite relaxing. Not so much the Derek part, because that puts a flutter in Stiles’ gut whenever he remembers it, but being cocooned in water. Stiles has forgotten how much he used to enjoy his own lessons when he was younger. The silence of being underwater, the outside noises muffled, the ease of movement. There’s something quite magical about it.

 

Stiles relates his feeling to Derek after his next lap.

 

“Mm,” Derek hums in agreement, looking over at Stiles, “that’s how I feel about it too.”

 

“Have you always wanted to be a swim instructor?”

 

“Not at all, actually.”

 

Stiles pulls himself up to sit on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water. He’s been trying to hide it from Derek but his fitness level isn’t that great and he’s getting tired from Derek’s surprisingly dedicated teaching. It’s time for some conversation so he can catch his breath.

 

“So what did you want to do?”

 

Derek hops up next to Stiles. Leaving a few inches between them, he leans back on his hands. Stiles mirrors the movement.

 

“I didn’t have any plans.”

 

“I did not pick that about you.”

 

“A lot don’t,” he says dejectedly, turning to Stiles briefly before looking down and away. “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. I just chose subjects at college that interested me, and worked a lot of casual jobs on the side. I liked this one.” Derek shrugs. “I stuck with it.”

 

Stiles nudges Derek with his shoulder. “Hey, it sounds pretty great to me, actually.”

 

“Thanks,” Derek says softly. “So what do you do?”

 

“Great question. I’m studying at the moment, comp-sci at UC Berkeley. It’s summer break though which is why I’ve been looking after Ben.”

 

“He’s a good kid.”

 

“Oh yeah, he’s pretty funny,” Stiles agrees. “Oh, by the way, Ben says I have to invite you to my next birthday party.”

 

Derek laughs lightly.

 

“Is it soon?”

 

“About five months away. So you’ve still got a bit of time to RSVP,” Stiles says with faux seriousness.

 

“I’ll check my calendar,” Derek plays along, “but I think I’m free.”

 

Stiles smiles at him, not sure where to take the conversation. It’s a strange feeling for Stiles but he’s calm in Derek’s presence. The silence doesn’t bother him.

  
He and Derek sit beside each other, making eye contact occasionally and smiling, looking away overwhelmed, the typical first date nervous habit. Stiles moves his feet lightly back and forth in the water.

 

Eventually, Derek traps Stiles’ left foot against the wall with his right.

 

Stiles looks across at him, waiting for Derek to say something.

 

He seems content just staring though, which Stiles lets him for a few seconds before asking, “What next?”

 

Derek ponders for a moment, then grins.

 

“I’ll race you. See if you’ve learnt anything.”

 

Stiles straightens up. “The swimming coach versus the student?”

 

“I’ll take it easy on you.”

 

“Well now that feels condescending,” Stiles teases, leaning closer to Derek.

  
“Fine,” Derek replies, cocky smile taking over his face. “No holds barred. You in?”

 

“Depends. What does the winner get?”

 

Derek leans in to Stiles and parts his mouth. His eyes drop down to Stiles’ lips. Stiles sucks in a breath, anticipating a kiss.

 

Derek doesn’t move any closer though. He flicks his eyes back up to Stiles’ and says, “I’ll decide what I want later.”

 

Stiles scoffs and kicks water at Derek, unaccountably turned on by seeing the confident and cocky side to Derek.

 

Derek retaliates by hopping in the water, grabbing Stiles and pulling them both under. Stiles opens his eyes so he can find Derek’s head and shove it deeper under water, which works for a moment until Derek decides to go for Stiles’ sides and he has to squirm away.

 

Derek smirks at him when they come up and Stiles splashes him again before kicking away and moving to the lane over, trying to catch his breath.

 

“Ready when you are,” he says with possibly misplaced confidence.

 

Derek counts them in and then they’re racing. Stiles holds his own at the start, but he keeps glancing over to Derek to watch his body moving through the water. It’s distracting, watching his muscles at work, and all that skin. It costs him the race, but he can’t say he regrets where his energy focussed.

 

Derek moves into Stiles’ lane, exuberant and smiling.

 

“You swam well,” he says with sincerity.

 

“Not as good as you, though. Fuck, I’m exhausted,” Stiles pants, heart beating uncomfortably fast. “I really didn’t think I would end that far behind you!”

 

“We’ll just have to do more lessons then,” Derek says, half like a question.

 

“I’d like that,” Stiles says, smiling at him.

 

There’s a moment between them then where Stiles feels that same calm he does when underwater. He relaxes into it, and moves so his and Derek’s arms are brushing, both leaning back against the wall of the pool.

 

“So, winner,” Stiles says when his heart rate is under control, “what do you want?”

 

Derek’s response is immediate. “A date with you.”

  
Stiles bites down on his smile and tilts his head, feigning confusion. “Is this not a date?”

  
Derek smiles but doesn’t answer that question. “A date where I don’t smell like chlorine and my fingers aren’t pruned,” Derek clarifies.

  
Stiles laughs softly. “I’d go for that.”

 

“Tomorrow night?” Derek asks, turning his body so he’s off the wall, and standing perpendicular to Stiles, arm draped along the wall behind him.

 

“We’ve seen each other every day this week. You don’t want a break from me?” Stiles hedges.

 

“Not at all.”

  
Stiles feels the familiar butterflies in his stomach. “Well alright then. Tomorrow.”

 

“Looking forward to it,” Derek says softly.

 

Stiles can feel the heat radiating from Derek’s arm, so close to touching his back. He feels shaky, waiting for one of them to move. For Derek to actually touch his back, or to pivot so he’s in front of Stiles, for his own hand to reach out to Derek’s chest, or thigh, or hip.

 

He breathes in deeply and watches Derek’s chest rise as he does the same.

 

“We probably should—” Stiles voice cracks from trying to speak softly enough not to break the tension. He tries again. “We probably should wait until the date to kiss then.”

 

Derek takes his time to reply, the pause giving Stiles ample time to wonder why he just said that. He’s practically salivating at the thought of kissing Derek, and he’s not normally this moral.

 

“Or—” Derek starts, leaving it at that.

  
“Yeah,” Stiles whispers, jumping on the suggestion. He turns so he’s facing Derek, chest to chest. “Or.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget, you can vote for your favourite submission [here](http://www.poll-maker.com/poll768363xC6434315-31)


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